


tonight i'm drowning

by highonfeels



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is basically a dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highonfeels/pseuds/highonfeels
Summary: Slowly, Tony realizes that he doesn’t forget about it but, the pain slowly fades into his subconscious, and he finds it easier to deal with it every day.Of course, some days are better than others.(aka 5 Times Tony Almost Used That Damn Cell Phone + 1)(aka Tony really misses Steve)





	1. broken wings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! So this is my take on the 5+1 thing, and I really hope you all enjoy it. I'm still not sure how intensely Stony this fic will be yet, but I'll figure it out.
> 
> So this is set post-Civil War, but let's just all pretend IW didn't happen please and thank you <3 
> 
> So I don't know when Civil War exactly took place (I'm leaving the specific year out of it, but the whole 5+1 will span about a year), but this first chapter is set in Feb/March.
> 
> Basically, I just want my two babies to be friends again, and there will be lots of Peter & Tony because I love that ADORABLE father-son thing they've got going on too.
> 
> And also, in case anything comes across as that, I'm not bashing either side I love both of them equally.
> 
> If you like it please leave kudos and comments, they really mean a lot :)

“…I know I hurt you, Tony…”

“…I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do…”

“…so no matter what, I promise you. If you need us-if you need me- I’ll be there...”

Sighing, Tony put the letter down. He’d read it so many times by now, the physical paper was merely a prop. He could cite the damn thing word-for-word in his sleep.

* * *

It had been a few months since he’d received the package, with this letter and that phone.

Initially, when the letter came, he’d held it close, immediately keeping it safely in his lab, tucked safely under a Spider-Man bobblehead. It seemed right there, like a fusion of the most important parts of him- the kid that made him feel like a hero, and the hero that reminded him that he was human.

He found himself re-reading the letter almost every day, found himself hoping that more lines would magically appear. He didn’t know what he wanted to read, had no idea what words could have been written to make everything completely alright again, but he just wished there was more.

The more he read it, the calmer he felt, until his eyes fell on Rhodes again, limping and inching his way around the Compound, and he’s reminded of that almost fatal fall, of that pain and anger, and of the fact that it was _Steve’s_ fault (because his anger doesn’t let him distinguish between direct cause and indirect cause), and he’s tempted to rip the letter into tiny little pieces and shove each piece individually up Steve Roger’s ass.

At times like these, Tony thinks it’s a good thing he has no idea where Steve is.

He kept the letter under the bobblehead until one day it got really bad, and he accidentally makes a small tear in the side. And then proceeds to have a complete meltdown.

“Rhodes, you don’t understand, it was all I had left,” Tony says in a small voice, sitting on the floor of his lab, hunched in on himself, uneasy breathing and fists clenched too tight.

This was “Post- Panic Attack Tony”, a sight that Rhodes was all too familiar with.

He slides himself down the wall to sit next to him and stretches his legs out, already exhausted from this movement.

“It’s not even torn, Tony. It’s fine. It’s the paper version of a paper cut,” he says, placing a gentle hand on Tony’s back, the other tapping Tony’s fists repeatedly, reminding him to unclench them before he hurt himself.

“I’ll put some tape on it for you, I’ll even laminate that stupid thing for you. Just, calm down man.”

Slowly, Tony takes deep breaths, finally uncurling and sitting up. He runs his hand down his face, to wipe away the exhaustion and some stray tears that had found its way out of his eyes. He moves out of Rhodes’ hand on him, and stands up, walking back to his table, as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t call it stupid,” is all Tony says, before hunching back over and tinkering with the web shooters he was upgrading and ignores Rhodes to the point that Rhodes worries that Tony’s going to shut him out now.

So, he decides to head back to the lab after an hour, with a small piece of tape placed over the tear, and a cup of coffee, courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y, hoping that the gesture would convey a silent apology for being insensitive, instead bumping into Tony in the kitchen.

When Rhodes hands him the things (he's the only exception to the 'don't hand me shit' complex), Tony smiles- the real, genuine kind that the world was too cruel to show often- and then smirks.

“Wow, honey. This is basically a marriage proposal,” he jokes, as he sets them down on the kitchen island, and runs his finger over the piece of tape, feeling the change in material from the coarser paper and smoother plastic of the tape, until his finger feels sore. When he finally looks up, there are tears glistening in his eyes, and he looks at Rhodes, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that his best friend was there.

He contemplates going over to get a hug, when Rhodes closes the distance first, wrapping arms around Tony, bracing himself for the joke he knows is on the way.

“I haven’t even said yes, and we’re basically at second base,” Tony quips, but it’s not quite there. He instead hugs Rhodes back and lets his mask fall for a minute.

He closes his eyes and feels the hot tears run down his face, and in a watery voice, he admits, “I know you’re my best friend, and I love you. But I miss him.”

He’s thankful that Rhodes knows him well enough to not suggest that he just call him if he missed him so much.

He moved the letter after that, from under the bobblehead to a locked drawer.

The phone was harder to deal with. That stupid fucking cell phone. Leave it to Steve Rogers to find the most ancient technology still existing on the planet.

With the letter, he had read it so many times he had it memorized, and then locked it away, to prevent him from self-destructing over it. But with the phone, he didn’t know what to do.

On the days where he felt calm after reading the letter, or empty at the vacancies in the compound, or sad from having to walk past Cap’s uninhabited room every time he had to get to his _(“Nice job, Tony, putting them right next to each other”, he thinks)_ , the phone is too tempting. To know that all he had to do was press one button and he’d get to hear Steve’s voice, and get a little closer to healing, is too enticing.

But, on the bad days- the ones where he wants to shove tiny pieces of paper in Steve’s ass- all he wants to do is put on a suit, fly to the highest possible point and hurl the phone to the ground over and over again until it’s shattered enough to accurately resemble the state of his heart.

He tried placing it in the drawer with the letter, but every time his hip accidentally bumped into the corner of the table, it would jostle the contents of the drawer, and he could hear the _thunk_ of the phone as it rammed into the walls of his heart.

He shoved it into the back of his closet but soon found that he couldn’t sleep, because he kept thinking he could hear the phone vibrating behind his shirts.

He even attempted to give it to Rhodes, hoping he’d keep it safe and out of his reach, but the Colonel simply told Tony to “deal with it like the man you are”, and absolutely refused to take, what he described as, “an intimate object”.

So, he’s stuck with leaving it inside the clenched fist of a dummy Iron Man gauntlet sitting on a ledge in his lab, hoping he’d forget about it over time, and hoping the two devices would slowly fuse together and explode, just like everything else in his life.

* * *

Over the months, Tony realizes that he doesn’t _forget_ about it, and he doesn't think he ever will, but between immersing himself in upgrading Spider-Man’s technology, figuring out ways to better Rhodes’ legs to improve mobility and occasionally fighting off Secretary Ross’ unyielding quest to find the missing Avengers, the pain slowly _fades_ into his subconscious, and he finds it easier to 'deal with it' (i.e. ignore it) every day.

But of course, some days are better than others.


	2. 29-05: remember me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tis Tony's Birthdayyyy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up WAY longer than I expected, but I hope you enjoy reading it!

The first of these bad days occurs not long after, a few weeks into May.

The first sign that something must be wrong comes from the midnight blaring of Tony’s ringtone for Peter. He’s so concentrated on his work that he nearly yelps, and jumps a solid foot away from his table, before recognizing the tune of _‘Spiderman, spiderman, does whatev-‘_

“Kid, what’s wrong?”

Tony hates to admit it, but the timing of the call, and the fact that he can barely make out the words Peter’s saying, knowing only that he’s shouting and that there’s loud noises in the background, is making his heart rate accelerate at an alarming rate.

“Sir, your heart rate is increasing rapidly. Should I alert Colonel Rhodes?” comes F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice over the speakers.

“No, no Fri,” he shushes before turning his attention back to Peter.

“Peter. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are-,” he cuts off because this doesn’t sound like an injured or distressed Peter, in fact, it sounds more like,

“Hang on, are you laughing?”

“Mr. Staaark!” Peter giggles and Tony can make out the tune to one of his favorite songs over the speakers.

“…Kid. Are you drunk?”

“What? No!” Tony hears the music shut off, and then Peter’s voice is back at full blast on his phone.

“I just called to wish you happy birthday! You know, with the whole exactly at midnight thing? My friends and I do it, and you’re one of my favorite people in the universe, so I _had_ to wish you at exactly midnight. Anything else would have been an abomination,” Peter says seriously- even though Tony can totally hear his grin- making Tony chuckle fondly.

“As nice as that sentiment is, kid, it’s not-” Tony starts, but then sees the date on his computer.

“It’s not what? Oh my god, were you sleeping, Mr. Stark? Or no, were you in a meeting? But, it’s midnight. But no, you’re totally right, it’s not appropriate for me to call you. I didn’t realize we weren’t there yet. I’m so sor-”

“Pete. Shut up. I was just going to say that I didn’t even realize it was my birthday. You’re so sweet to have called. Thanks, kid.”

Tony can hear Peter release a sigh of relief.

“I mean, you’re super old now, so I don’t blame your memory. That’s why I’m partying for you. You know, because you’re so old,” Peter teases, eliciting an instant grin from Tony.

It’s moments like these that Tony remembers why he loves Peter so much.

“Guess it’s time for me to start using Cap’s old hearing aids,” he quips back, and it’s the first time he’s mentioned Steve in all these months. Something inside him tugs a little, but he ignores that to turn his attention back to Peter’s contagious laughter on the other end, and then listens to Peter tell him that he’d made “super cool plans” for them the next day after school.

“Can’t wait, Pete.”

“Me neither, Mr. Stark,” he hears Peter beam into the phone before hanging up.

He realizes he hasn’t stopped smiling for the past 8 minutes of the phone call and massages his cheeks to ease the tension while wondering when the kid started having that effect on him.

When he sees the date again, a small “29/05” at the bottom of the screen, he suddenly feels all too old and all too weary, and slumps down in his chair, running his hands through his hair and down his face before finally dropping his head into them.

The tug in his heart had turned into a full-fledged yank, and a small part of him wished that Peter hadn’t reminded him that today was his birthday. He wished he could ignore the sadness that seemed to envelop him when he realized that this was the first birthday in a while that he’d have to spend without the Avengers, instead of all the memories from his previous birthdays replaying in his head like a melodramatic montage.

He stood up, resolute, and decided to spend the day well, if not for anything but to spite Howard Stark, and show him that he was glad he was born even if he wished he could’ve traded his father in for literally any other organism-living or non-living.

And a little bit to prove to himself that he could live without Captain America and his ragtag team of ragamuffin losers ~~that he loved~~. But mostly the first one. 60-40.  


* * *

 

He slept in, waking up lazily at 10 am and effectively getting more sleep in that one night than he had in the entire of the last 2 weeks _combined_.

Rhodes was in DC for an “Appease Secretary Ross” session, but had sent a message at 6 am, with a simple “Happy Birthday man”. No emojis, no-nonsense, all Rhodey.

There was the usual scattering of automated messages and emails from his bank, the board of directors and Olive Garden, and another text from Peter wishing him again, and telling him he was “crazy excited to hang with you, Mr. Stark”. It wasn’t often that Tony woke up with a smile on his face, but he was glad that today was an exception.

He pads through the empty compound, actively ignoring the whine he hears due to the absolute silence throughout the entire building.

He’s struck again with that familiar twang in his chest, when he realizes he usually started his birthday with a bountiful breakfast spread prepared by Steve Rogers himself, with a little help from Vision and the others.

Vision was off holidaying with Wanda, and it would hardly be fair to order him to come back just to make him an omelette.

Even though was _technically_ the one who created him…

Hmm…

_“Oh my god, Tony no. Make the fucking_ _omelette_ _and get out. Jesus Christ.”_

He shakes himself out his thoughts and makes his breakfast, instructing Fri to play some music so that there’s white noise to replace the sounds of laughter and conversation that filled that space up until a few months ago.

He works in his lab and Skypes Rhodey for a while, waiting desperately for 4 pm to roll around, so that he can find a new distraction in Peter Parker. He refuses to let himself sit alone, and even goes to hang out with the building security guard just to make sure he’s occupied all day. He’ll go out of his way to avoid being left alone with his thoughts today.

He’s just about running out of things to do when his phone rings, and Peter’s face pops up, hand thrown up in a hasty peace sign, Tony’s arm around his shoulder. He smiles at the picture for a moment before picking up.

“Mr. Stark! Have you eaten lunch?” Peter cries immediately, skipping the usual greeting.

Tony is hit with the sudden realization that no, he has not eaten lunch, and that he’s actually really hungry. He tells Peter this, and Peter goes “Yes!” before texting him an address to a pizza place in Queens.

“Kid, if I get robbed or food poisoning or _both_ in this dodgy pizza place, I’m going to kill you,” he says, before he hangs up to get ready, and he swears he could _hear_ the eye roll Peter was giving him.

“Fri, ask Happy to pick me up in 20.”  


* * *

 

“That pizza is going to clog my arteries and I’m going to die right here,” Tony says, and Peter is worried he’s made a mistake until Tony orders 3 slices and says, “That’s the right way to eat pizza, kid. I love it.”

They talk and laugh and Peter even makes the two teenagers running the pizza place sing a birthday song for Tony, and insists on paying for the “birthday boy, or man, or maybe grandpa?” and Tony is too absorbed in spending every minute being engrossed in this kid to worry about anything else.

“You good to walk around, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, getting a raised eyebrow in response.

“No, no not because of the old thing. Just, in case you’re busy or you’ve got plans or something?” he asks, voice hesitantly tapering off towards the end as he tugs on the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt.

“Please,” Tony says, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling the kid close, “even if I did, I’d blow them all off to spend a lifetime with you, kid.”

So they walk, neither paying attention to where they’re going or what they’re doing, but enjoying the other’s company, and for a while, they can’t feel the voids in their hearts, too filled with happiness, pizza, and love.

Somewhere along the way, they get into an argument, about where one can find the best ice cream and milkshakes in Queens, and suddenly they’re having a milkshake drinking competition and going to 5 different ice cream parlors all over town to crown a winner.

By the time 9 pm rolls around, Tony is so full, he can’t move, he has stitches from laughing too hard and his face muscles are in so much pain from smiling all day. Peter’s shoulders hurt from carrying around his backpack all day, but his face is flushed with laughter and he’s almost giddy from happiness. They take a break and sit on a bench when Tony notices exactly how heavy Peter’s bag is.

“Jeez kid, what’s in the bag?” Tony asks, curiosity piqued when Peter looked at the ground sheepishly.

“Actually, since it’s a Friday, I brought some clothes too. I was going to ask if we could have a slumber party of sorts,” he says, “if you’re not busy, of course” he adds quickly.

Tony finds himself grinning again. This kid was really the best.

“Pete, I’d love nothing more. I’ll call Happy to pick us up. I really don’t think I can walk anymore.”

“I’ll gift you a cane next year, Mr. Stark, don’t you worry.”  


* * *

 

They’re halfway through their game of Monopoly (if Tony specifically bought the Star Wars version just because he knew Peter liked it, that’s nobody’s business), when there’s an alert from F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“Sir, there’s a delivery for Peter Parker.” Tony moves to get up, but the kid’s faster, and he jumps up, insisting that Mr. Stark not move even an inch.

Approximately five minutes later, Tony’s just about to get up and see what all the fuss is, when he hears, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., dim the lights, please,” and sees Peter walking in with a small cake, face lit up with the glow of the candles on the cake.

Peter sets the cake down in the middle of the coffee table, shifting the Monopoly board to the side for the moment, and lets Tony get a clear good look at the cake. It’s a small one, sufficient for the two of them, and a little for Rhodes when he gets back in a few days.

There’s a simple cartoon, of Iron Man wearing a Spiderman shirt, standing next to a Spiderman in an Iron Man shirt, the cake punctured with three “letter” candles, spelling “O-L-D” because, “I couldn’t get them to put a million candles on the cake, Mr. Stark. It’s illogical.”

Tony, in all honesty, is a little speechless. There’s a lump in his throat, and the threat of tears in his eyes, because it’s all so sweet but also _oh so very empty_ , as he registers the clear absence of the off-tune singing of the Avengers.

He’s suddenly so glad that Peter came home with him instead of leaving him to wallow on his own, and he’s struck with the realisation that maybe this kid knows what he’s doing after all.

So he pushes through the weight in his chest and smiles, blowing out the candles, and making a wish for the first time ever. He finds himself wishing-pleading- for everything to change, and then looks at Peter, and amends it because there are some things he never wants to let go of.  


* * *

 

Before they continue the game, Tony heads down to the lab for 20 minutes, on the excuse of turning the lights off, even though both Peter and he know that F.R.I.D.A.Y. could do that just as easily. Peter doesn’t comment on the lie, understanding that the man needed a break, instead choosing to take that time to go and shower and change into sleepwear.

Tony really just didn’t want his kid to see him break down, and the entire day had felt like it was building up to Tony violently cursing at his bots or punching in a tear-stained pillow.

Until he realised, all he had to do was call.

It would be his birthday gift to himself. Hearing Steve’s voice and feeling his soul knit itself up on its own.

He’s distraught enough to consider it, and pries the phone from the gauntlet’s fist and powers it on, fingers trembling in excitement and anxiety and anticipation.

His finger hovers over the call button- it’s not like there was much else the phone was capable of doing- and suddenly the phone is crashing to the ground, the sudden vibration indicative of a text alert startling Tony.

He laughs to himself, thinking about how high-strung he must be to be scared by a vibration and picks up the phone. He temporarily abandons the call button and goes to check the message, expecting a text from the mobile service provider.

Text from: Steve Rogers

And suddenly Tony is 14 again, his heart racing when he sees his crush walk into the schoolyard, flustered and excited all at once. His knees are giving way, and he slumps into his chair again and opens the message.

**Steve Rogers: _Happy Birthday, Tony <3\. I miss you._**

Six words, 1 emoji, and it makes his whole, fucking day.

_“Oh my god he remembered my birthday”_

_“Oh my god he sent me a heart emoji”_

_“Oh my god he misses me”_

_“Oh my god”_

His thoughts are jumbled and he’s reeling, but he’s ridiculously happy. He doesn’t know if he should respond, but the part of him that’s a little in love with him is already typing out a response, _I miss you, too. I wish you’d come back. I wish I’d had your breakfast this morning, and I wish your voice had sung me a happy birthday. I wish you were here, and I wish things were different and nothing is the same without you._

But one glance at the locked drawer in which the letter was kept, and Tony’s pressing the delete key. It’s not time yet. He can’t. But for what it’s worth, this was enough for now.  


* * *

 

He returns upstairs to find Peter settled on the couch, Monopoly game forgotten. It’s too late to finish it anyway, and they’d both rather fall asleep in front of the TV. They select a random season of the Original Star Trek, and they’re 2 episodes in when Tony feels the weight of Peter’s head on his shoulder.

It’s quiet for another 5 minutes, and Tony thinks that he’s fallen asleep until he hears a quiet,

“Hey, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have a good day?” Peter turns his face up to find Tony staring blankly at the screen, “I mean, I know I didn’t get you anything but-“

“Shh,” is all Tony says, bringing his fingers to card through the younger boy’s hair.

He thinks about his day, from the midnight phone call to the pizza and the cake, and the text from that damn phone.

“I had a fucking great day, Pete. Thank you.”

He drops a feather-light kiss to the top of Peter’s head and reminds himself to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y when the kid’s birthday is.

It’s only fair to throw an amazing party for one of the only forces in the universe holding him together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are life :)


	3. 18-06: bent not broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like this chapter! I'm not too sure how i feel about it yet, so I'd love to hear from you guys!
> 
> Also, please note that Tony's thoughts in this are him channeling angst and guilt, and are not reflective of my thoughts on the whole Steve and Tony debacle. I love them both.

Some days are bad because Tony gets too sentimental. He’d perfected the façade of “I’m Iron Man and I’m Tough and Manly and Stoic and Charming” over time, but the people who knew him best knew that it was a front.

They knew that Tony Stark attached significance and sentiment to every memory in his life, as if they were lines of code in his programming, with every small moment playing a huge part in who he was.

He wakes up on “Bad Day #2” at 11 am, with a splitting headache, realizing after precisely 23 seconds that this was the aftermath of a particularly heavy night of drowning his sorrows in scotch.

His hangover suddenly makes sense when he finally turns to his phone and reads the date through squinted eyes.

Fuck.                                              

He couldn’t deal with this today.

The irony that the hangover was a _reminder_ of the drinking that he did to _forget_ doesn’t escape Tony, and he pulls his pillow over his face and lets out a low groan.

* * *

It’s way past noon by the time Tony is actually up and functioning, maneuvering himself surprisingly well for someone who was convinced his brain was going to explode if it throbbed any harder.

His first order of business is getting rid of the empty bottles lying around the couch because the smell of alcohol is making his stomach slosh back into his throat and he can’t quite deal with the sting of nausea coupled with the sharp pain behind his eyes.

He completes this task impossibly slowly and has to run to the bathroom to throw up twice in the process, but he’s already feeling more put together when the evidence of his crash is removed from his immediate sight.

He contemplates making some toast and reaches for the bread before the entire world seems to tilt on its side, and he opts for sitting down for a while.

His phone rings suddenly, and he’s so glad it’s on silent because just its vibration against the surface of the countertop creates a sound that makes his brain feel like someone is crushing rocks inside his skull, and he can’t imagine what the effect of a full volume ring would have been.

He rushes to answer, paying no attention to the caller ID but focused mainly on getting that sound to stop before it morphed into hands that gouged out his eyeballs.

“Please whisper,” he mutters softly into the phone, foregoing all the usual greetings.

“I was going to ask about how you’re holding up, but I already have my answer,” he hears Rhodes sigh into the phone, and the disappointment etching his voice is almost as grating as the vibration was.

“Can you please wait until I can open my eyes in normal daylight before giving me shit today?”

“… I didn’t call to give you shit. I was just concerned. Did you drink any water?” Rhodes asks, and Tony realizes just how dry and sticky his mouth feels.

Rhodey’s voice has always managed to ground him, and he gets up and drinks 4 glasses of water, suddenly hit with intense thirst.

“Shit.”

“Ha, yeah I’m sure.” Rhodes chuckles, before walking Tony through eating a small breakfast of toast and a banana, and taking some Extra-Strength Advil for the headache.

He stays on the phone with Rhodes all through “breakfast”, but they don’t talk. Just having the company helps.

Tony’s forehead is pressed against the cool granite of the island, and his phone is on speakerphone, hearing the clicking of keys on Rhodes’ keyboards as he types an email to Secretary Ross, telling him to “go fuck yourself” in as polite and politically-correct language as possible.

The hangover distracts him from thinking about anything else, such as the actual _reason_ behind the drinking.

An hour later, Tony still hasn’t let Rhodes hang up, but he’s feeling infinitely better.

Keeping Rhodes on the phone replaces his hangover as the distraction, and he’s glad that his focus on keeping his toast down is trumping his focus on the significance of the day.

“Peter called me this morning to ask if you would be up for a field trip, and I didn’t know what to say.” Rhodes’ voice breaks through the silence softly.

“Where to?”

“Call the kid, Tony. Go hang out with him. Don’t touch any more alcohol today.” Rhodes says, hanging up immediately after. Tony knows he’s not annoyed, he just has to dole out tough love before Iron Man decides to actually do something.

Sighing, Tony pulls his phone close again, and dials Peter’s number.

“Mr. Stark? Is everything okay?” Worry laces Peter’s voice.

Tony involuntarily smiles.

“Hey, kid. I’m fine. I just heard you’d rather hang out with Rhodes than me, and now I’m trying to figure out how to tell you that I need the suit back” he teased, relishing in the hitch in breathing he hears on the other end before Peter chokes out a frantic,

“No, no, no, no Mr. Stark! That’s not what happ-”

“Relax, Underoos. I know. What did you have in mind?” Tony chuckles, and his sentence is punctuated with a grumble from his stomach, indicative of his appetite gradually returning, and the realization that his headache is almost completely gone.

 _This kid really does work wonders,_ he laughs to himself _._

“Oh, we can do whatever you want to do, Mr. Stark. If you want some time to think about it, you can call me ba-” Peter starts, expecting to hear either an “I’ll think about it” or an “I’ve got to work in the lab today, sorry kid”.

“The Smithsonian.” Tony blurts out, surprising himself with how sure he was that that was how he wanted to spend the day, and then adds, “If that’s okay with you,” voice leaning towards slight hesitation towards the end.

“The Smithsonian? In Washington D.C.?”

“…Do you know any other Smithsonian?”

“You know we’re not _in_ D.C., right?” Peter asks, and the concern is back, as if he’s genuinely worried that his mentor and idol has completely lost his mind over the past few weeks.

“I have a plane, you have summer holidays. Let’s do it.” He says, and for a minute he’s worried Peter is going to blow him off for Star Wars Lego fun with Ned or something, and he’s not too sure if he can handle that rejection and loneliness as of _today_.

The beat before Peter responds is long enough for a montage of Peter ditching him forever and him crying over an ancient phone by himself to fill his mind, and he’s pulled from that dangerous spiral as he hears Peter let out an exhilarated huff of laughter on the other end.

Just imagining that makes him smile too, grin growing even broader when he hears Peter say,

“That sounds awesome. Can’t wait to see you, Mr. Stark.”

His phone rings again 30 seconds after Peter hangs up, Peter’s name flashing on the screen again.

“Mr. Stark, its 4 pm.”

“…Is it your bedtime?”

“What? No! I’m not a kid, Mr. Star-who even sleeps at 4-I’m almost six-”, he cuts off when he hears Tony start laughing.

“Did they teach you a class on how to be super annoying at MIT, too?” Peter huffs, much to Tony’s amusement.

“It’s 4:05 now, so what’s your point?”

“Right. The Smithsonian closes at 5:30.”

“So?”

“… So it’s going to be closed by the time we _fly_ to D.C.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Iron Man gets nighttime museum privileges, huh?” Tony quips and finds himself filled with a ridiculous amount of fondness when he hears Peter’s shy “Oh. Right.” before hanging up.

* * *

They board Tony’s personal plane, and Peter’s silent for the first half-hour, too overwhelmed with the fact that he’s flying in _Tony Stark’s private jet_ to bounce about.

So enthralled, in fact, that he doesn’t notice how significantly tense Tony is, or if he does, Peter doesn't mention it.  Tony, however, is busy bracing himself for the questions Peter will bombard him with, asking why they were coming to the Smithsonian, asking questions about Captain America, about Bucky, about Howard Stark, about everything.

When it’s 5 minutes to landing, Peter finally turns to Tony and Tony thinks this is the moment he’s been dreading since he hung up the phone at 4.05 pm.

“So, what ar-”

“It’s complicated,” Tony exclaims, without even hearing the question, and he registers from Peter’s utterly confused expression that that wasn’t remotely the answer to his question.

“Sorry, what was your question?” Tony says, sounding too exhausted from having spent the entire past hour with his stomach in a tight, uncomfortable clench.

“I was just going to ask what the exhibits at the Smithsonian were.” He says softly, suddenly worried that the exhaustion in Tony’s voice was somehow his fault, and he’s glad Tony knows him well enough to know that he needs some reassurance before his overactive imagination kicks in, and leans into the feeling of Tony reaching over and ruffling his hair.

Tony points out the window as the large buildings of D.C. come into view, and smugly tells Peter that he’ll just have to wait and see, excitement lighting up both of their eyes.

* * *

After-hours at the Smithsonian leaves the exhibits and galleries void of people, but not of life. There’s so much for Peter to see, and Tony notes the absence of the usual self-consciousness that follows him around- the result of years of bullying and sticking out like a sore thumb.

They find that conversation flows naturally between them, Peter doing most of the talking and Tony hanging on to his every word, not wanting even the smallest of memories or moments to slip away.

Peter hadn’t been around much for the past few weeks, with the end of the academic year commemorated with a final set of exams, and Tony had missed the kid’s nonstop chatter about everything and anything under the Sun.

They traveled from exhibit to exhibit, mocking funny looking paintings, and paying respect to other aspects of world history and culture, and Tony’s so caught up in giggling quietly over a phallic symbol that he almost forgets why he even wanted to come to the Smithsonian in the first place.

Almost.

He’s busy looking at Peter with an intensely endearing smile thinking to himself that this was a good life, just him and his kid against the world, when he realizes the next exhibit is _the one._

“CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE LIVING LEGEND & SYMBOL OF COURAGE” he reads, and he can tell that Peter is excited beyond belief.

Sure, the kid knew they’d fought. He’d been in the middle of it. But, hero worship is hero worship, and Peter hadn’t registered any animosity or emotions besides how _cool_ it was that “freaking Captain America dropped a truck on me, that was so insane”.

In anyone else, it might have annoyed Tony that their loyalty seemed shifty, but with Peter, it’s different. Tony’s glad that he has someone with him who won’t let him blast the exhibit to pieces, but won’t spend too much time harping about the “magical muscly goodness” of Captain America. It was a good balance.

He stops before the sign, and Peter senses his hesitation, and reluctantly asks him if he wants to skip this, but Tony’s going to be strong about this, and he allows Peter to take his hand and pull him into another star-spangled mess.

* * *

Tony is extremely proud to say that his heart only clenched up once- at seeing the video of Steve and Bucky laughing together, and only felt like crying once- upon seeing the Captain America shield- because all he can remember is how the edge felt when it was slammed into his chest. He’s a lot more put together than he thought he would be.

Until they reach Peggy’s interview projection. And Tony’s broken before he can even see it coming.

He slumps into the seats provided, and as soon as Peggy’s voice runs over his skin, he can feel his heart accelerate and the tears spring to his eyes almost immediately, burying his face in his hands.

And suddenly, Peter is there. He takes a seat next to Tony, and taps Tony’s neck until he looks up.

“Hey there,” Peter whispers, incredibly soft, and suddenly Tony feels like the child in the room.

“Hey there.” Tony parrots back, a small but sad smile tugging at his lips.

“Is everything okay?”

There’s no judgement or tone of caution. There isn’t even a hint of wariness. It’s just an earnest question, and Tony is so surprised at how this kid somehow always seems to know what to say.

He’s overcome with a rush of warmth as he thinks about Peter- the boy who thinks he’s not much when he’s really everything Tony has at this point, the boy that makes Tony Stark feel like he’s worth something- and he decides to let Peter in.

“Today makes one year,” he says, and he knows that there’s no way Peter can make out anything of the situation from the sentence, but Peter remains silent, waiting for Tony to continue.

“Peggy Carter died one year ago, today. She was an amazing woman, who accomplished amazing things, especially for the crappy, misogynistic times that she had to operate in.

“But I think her greatest accomplishment was Steve Rogers, which I know sounds like a really sexist thing to say, but I don’t mean it like that.”

Tony starts, and he doesn’t know where his sentences are leading, but now that he’s started talking, he can’t really stop.

He can’t bring himself to talk more about Steve yet, so he’s just rattling off a list of Peggy’s war achievements, a list he’s heard too many times from both his father and ~~his~~ Steve.

“She’s the whole reason the super-soldier programme even started… She helped my da-dad clear his name when people thought he was a traitor… She basically founded S.H.I.E.L.D, you know... She fell in love with Captai-Ste-”

“Were you and Peggy close?” Peter asks, a hint of a laugh in his tone, and Tony thinks to himself that his kid is actually a sly little shit who knows too much.

“No, I’ve never even met her,” he admits and sighs, slumping further into his seat, and he swears he can see a small smile on Peter’s face from the corner of his eye.

“He lost her _twice_ , Peter. Can you imagine that? _Twice._ As if once isn’t damage enough.

“He lost her twice. I knew how much she meant to him, and when he lost her, I-I,” he takes a staggering breath, knowing that when the words left his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to take them back, wouldn’t be able to alter any judgement that would cloud Peter’s eyes when he heard.

He feels Peter put his hand on his shoulder, and pushes on.

“I wasn’t there for him,” he finally spills, expecting to feel the warm hand lift off his shoulder, and see Peter turn his back on him the way Steve turned his back on Tony, one hand around Bucky’s waist, the other stabbing Tony in the back.

Despite that image, it’s not Steve he’s mad at today. It’s himself. His thoughts are disconnected and he’s feeling a little disoriented, but he feels better the more he talks.

“What kind of person leaves his best friend to grieve over the loss of one of the most important people in his life all by himself, because they don’t agree about a _document_?

“A document, Peter. A bunch of pages with a bunch of words, and I decided that Steve could just handle this colossal loss on his own? Fuck.

“Maybe I am my father. That seems like something he might have done- prioritize some kind of petty shit over someone’s emotional wellbeing.

He finally feels it, the rush of cold air as Peter lifts his hand off of Tony’s shoulder, and Tony thinks that this is it. He clamps his hands together again, rests his elbows on his knees, and puts his head back down. He can’t watch this one walk away too.

But Peter’s tapping his neck again, and Tony lifts his head, slower this time. He’s aware that his eyes must be glistening and his knuckles are white from clasping his hands together too tight, but he’s too tired to be embarrassed or put on a mask and doesn’t even resist when Peter pries his hands apart and takes one in his.

Tony stares hard at their hands connected together, a little confused because he was convinced that he was a terrible person who didn’t deserve this.

“What are you doing?” He finally asks, because he’s not too sure what this particular move is.

Peter stares straight ahead at the projection that’s playing its 3rd loop.

“I’m holding your hand.”

“You’re not going to leave?”

“And go where? You’re my ride home.” Peter jokes, but he hopes Tony’s understood the underlying message of _“Mr. Stark, you’re so dumb. I could never leave you.”_

Tony looks at their clasped hands again and pushes on. Clearly, talking this out isn’t going to cost him another person, so he might as well get it all out there.

“Maybe things would be different if I had gone to the funeral, you know? If I had gone and given Steve a hug and told him that even if it felt like he had lost everyone that loved him, he’d always have me, and I’d always love him.

“I should have told him that no matter what happened with the Accords, I’d never stop loving him. That he was more important than anything else. That I was there.

“I should have been there. I shouldn’t have combined business and pleasure. We ar-were family. Families fight, but they’re unconditional, and my love for him should have extended beyond that.”

He feels hot tears travel down his cheeks, and Peter squeezes his hand.

Sighing, Tony wipes his face with his free hand and looks at Peter.

“I just hope he’s doing alright, today. I don’t know how much help Bucky and Sam will be, and I hope he knows that I hope he’s alright. And that he’s still family. Even after everything. You know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark, I know,” Peter says, sounding just as sad as Tony feels.

“But,” Peter continues, and Tony knows that this is the optimism that he needs to hear to bounce back from the day.

“But?”

“It’s not too late. You could always call him, check up on him. Tell him that you love him. And that he’s still your family. And all the other stuff.

“I know that when Uncle Ben died, I wished that my last words to him hadn’t been me refusing to go get milk, or shouting at him.

“I just wish I could get 5 more minutes with Ben, just to give him a hug and say thank you for taking care of me for all those years even though he never had to, so that we’d have a better final conversation.

“Or, actually, I wish I hadn’t let him go get the milk.

“Or that I had actually remembered the milk,” Peter sighs, and Tony worries they’re both going to start crying in this dumb Captain America exhibit. But Peter takes a shaky breath, and continues,

“But, I don’t have those chances anymore. We’re superheroes but the laws of mortality, albeit stretched a little, still apply. And maybe I won’t ever get over that nag of guilt, even though it’s so much better now, but you have a chance to say something, and maybe you should do it before it’s too late.”

“But that’s just what I think, I don’t know,” Peter adds hurriedly, and Tony lets out a low chuckle as he recognizes the safe play to absolve himself of any blame if Tony does take his advice.

Tony thinks about this, and they sit in silence, just holding hands and hearing Peggy Carter’s voice hitch when she talks about Steve Rogers about 6 times before Tony’s internal monologue comes to a halt, and he realizes the main resonating thought is “ _But I’m not ready”_ even though it’s surrounded by _“Ugh, I miss him”_ s and _“I just want to make sure he’s alright”_ s.

He’s worried he’s going to disappoint Peter when he tells him this, but one look at Peter and he knows that he’ll understand.

“I miss him. But I’m not ready for him to know that just yet. Is that okay?” he asks, and it’s Peter’s turn to laugh.

“Of course that’s okay, Mr. Stark. I just want you to be happy,” he smiles.

“Besides, what if I ask him if he’s okay, and he’s doing really well? What if being apart isn’t killing him as much as it’s killing me?” Tony asks, surprising himself with how easily that concern vocalized itself.

Peter nods knowingly and puts his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“We both know that’s not true, Mr. Stark. He could never be happy without you, I’ve seen you guys together. I’m sure he’s wallowing in depression, growing himself a sadness beard and ripping all the Captain America out of Steve Rogers because that’s what caused you pain,” he semi-jokes, and Tony pulls the kid into his side and laughs.

“Is it bad that that visual actually makes me feel better?” They giggle together before pulling apart. Peter stands and offers his hand to Tony to pull him up, and Tony is hit with the poetic significance of how much easier it is to pick yourself up when you accept some help.

They’re just about to leave the room when Tony turns back and pulls an incredibly small bouquet-bouquet is actually a highly generous term- of a few flowers from inside his jacket pocket and kneels down to sets them in front of the poster of Peggy Carter.

“I’m going to try and take care of him, Peggy. I promise. I just need a little more time,” he whispers so quietly that Peter almost doesn’t catch it, but he does. So he goes and pulls Tony up again, but instead of walking away, crashes into his chest and gives him a tight hug.

Tony’s so taken by surprise, he lets out an _oof,_ before stumbling backward and steadying himself.

“Hello again,” he says, grinning, but he pulls Peter even closer and drops a kiss to his hair, screaming a silent thank you to the universe for bringing this kid swinging and stumbling into his path.

* * *

They stay at a hotel for the night, there are two beds, but a sleepy Peter is a clingy Peter, and he insists on curling into Tony’s side while they watch reruns of The Office on TV. Tony idly wonders when he became so comfortable with Peter’s entire body basically latched onto his side, but thinks that maybe it comes along with this natural paternal protective instinct that kicks in when he sees Peter’s broad grin.

Peter is almost asleep, and the gentle carding of Tony’s fingers through his hair transports him back to when he was a small six-year-old sleeping on his father’s lap. He’s fading in and out of consciousness, but he remembers he has to ask Tony a very important question.

“Hey, Mr. Stark?” he asks, the words impossibly soft, and Tony wouldn’t have even known the kid was talking if he hadn’t felt his lips move against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Do you like my outfit?”

Tony smiles, eyes still fixed on the screen, crediting this dialogue to sleepy babbling, but Peter tugs on his shirt until he looks down and Peter repeats the question.

And Tony finally notices Peter’s pajamas.

Iron Man pants and a shirt with Captain America’s shield on it.

Tony lets out an almost inaudible laugh, and he’s not too sure what to make of this situation.

“Um, yeah the pants are great.”

“Noooo,” Peter whines, “the whole outfit is great. See how well they match.”

Tony has to mute the TV to hear Peter now, because the kid is 95% asleep already.

“You and Captain America match really well, Mr. Stark. You guys are just in the laundry right now. But you’re going to be an outfit again. Super comfy.” Peter whispers, clearly losing track of what he’s saying at that point.

“And then we can all be a family together.”

Tony’s face falls suddenly, not sure if he’d heard Peter correctly. But he looks down at Peter, curled up into his side, and thinks about how the only thing to make the scene more perfect is if Steve were on the kid’s other side, one hand holding Tony’s and the other playing with Peter’s hair.

“That sounds like a great idea, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO I know I mention the Accords a lot and not the Bucky situation but that's because at the time when Peggy died, the Accords were their fight because the Bucky stuff hadn't happened yet.
> 
> But I know that the Accords aren't their biggest deal. They're just more relevant to the time period his turmoil is set in.


End file.
